


Father Lost

by klahiie



Category: Life Is Strange 2
Genre: AU Fanfic, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klahiie/pseuds/klahiie
Summary: Sean and Daniel believe that their father died by the hand of the police officer, but instead he lives, falling into a coma for nine months. When he comes to, Esteban learns his sons are on the run from the police and he calls in a little help to help him find his missing sons, before they get hurt, or worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m writing this because I love Esteban and he didn’t deserve to die.

Chapter 1

The irritable sound of beeping in his ear was the first thing he’d heard, accompanied by the smell of medical grade cleaners, burning his nose. It wasn’t until he flexed his oddly stiff, cold fingers that he felt the aching in his body.

  
What had happened? Where was he? He had no idea even though he searched desperately in the depths of his mind. What was the last thing he remembered?  
It was...October 29th...just a day or so before Halloween. He remembered because Mrs. Planty called him complaining about her brakes again. She said they weren’t working, that she tapped her brakes and went right through a stop sign, if it wasn’t for the streets being completely empty she could have died. He told her, yet again, that with the ceramic brake pads, she would have to push on her brakes a little harder to slow or stop the car, but they would last longer, as she’d requested.

  
But that wasn’t...that wasn’t the important part of his day, no. No what was it?

  
Sean was...going to a party with Lyla...he gave him some money for party favors...probably weed. He didn’t approve of his son smoking weed, but at least it wasn’t something harder. It could have been a number of anything else, cocaine, LSD, PCP, Heroine, Meth. No, the was thankful for it just being weed.

  
He was working on his chiquito’s future car when he heard the ruckus. Swearing, screaming. He remembered now, he remembered everything now. He heard the shouting, the screaming, then the pleading and the sound of the officer. He ran out to try and diffuse the situation, but the boys were shouting, the officer was panicking. In all honesty, he knew he would be shot the moment he stopped and saw that gun.  
His eyes cracked open, feeling heavy and sticky, and tired. Like he’d woken up after a night of binge drinking and partying, only he wasn’t the one doing anything. He groaned, lips sticking together, tongue swollen in his mouth. His head rolled over, looking down at the mess of wires and tubes he was hooked up to. He expected to see his sons, sitting in the chairs on the opposite side of the room, but all he got was emptiness.

  
Huh. They had better be at school, or doing homework.

  
Wheezing, he reached over, looking at the remote fastened around the arm of the hospital bed, his finger pressed the red call button for the nurse. It was almost immediate, the door opening. A young nurse, maybe in his mid to late twenties rushed in. He was a good looking lad, dark skin, curly hair cut short.

  
“Mr. Diaz, you’re awake!” his breath caught, rushing to the mans’ side. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” He asked, but he was already working on filling a small styrofoam cup full of water, putting a neon green bendy straw in it. Oh...water sounded good. “Ok now,” he reached over, pushing one of the buttons on the handle of the bed to control the incline, sitting him up at a 75 degree angle before he placed the tip of the straw against his lips. Esteban didn’t argue, his lips pulling apart, dragging a dry, swollen tongue across dry, cracked lips before he gratefully took the straw. “Easy now, small sips at first, then we can conquer big ones.” He instructed.

  
It was funny, hearing someone tell a 45 year old man how to drink water, but he listened, the corners of his lips twisting up into a smile as he did. A couple small sips at first, then bigger ones until he was sucking the bottom of the cup dry. “Damn, guess you were thirsty.” The nurse chuckled, placing the cup on the stand by his bedside. “You want any more?” He asked.

  
“No,” Esteban shook his head, the cool water feeling like a blessed, healing hand along the inside of his throat. “But definitely keep that cup right there.” He looked up at him. The man nodded, returning the look with a smile gorgeous enough to be on the cover of a magazine.

  
Esteban always found beauty in everyone. Sometimes the eyes of a man were more beautiful than that of a woman, it was just as simple as that. Sometimes he found himself attracted to certain men more than he would be his own wife, but it wasn’t ever an issue to him. He loved Karen, and he preferred women. Had he met a man he found more compatible to him than her, things might have been different, but he never would wish to ever change what happened.

  
Well...he could go without being shot. That was something he could have lived without.  
“Will do Mr. Diaz.” The nurse replied.

  
“Esteban, please.” He felt like his smile displayed a sleep he’d been lacking for a thousand years, even though he’d just woken up. “I’ve been pretty much a lump here for...only god knows how long.” He looked down at his limbs, slightly burning now as life came back to them. Or rather, as consciousness began to register the dormant limbs in his brain.

“About nine months.” The nurse replied, but the words sound foreign and fake to the older man, but they still instill fear in him.

“What?” He looks at the boy, eyes hard, all pain in his body gone as his heart races hard in his chest.

“You’ve been out for nine months, sir.” The young nurse can tell he’ll have some explaining to do, especially when the 45 year old takes a sharp inhale, pushing himself forward. His arms shake as his knuckles dig into the mattress below him, trying to muster up what strength he had as the paternal instinct to protect his sons comes into play. “Sir, sir please sit back.” A hand grabs his shoulder.

“My sons, where are they?” He nearly flops back, eyes full of fear and worry as he looks up into the young visage.

“I’m sorry, your...sons?” The boy looked confused, not completely sure about the status of any family members. He knew he shouldn’t take it out on the boy, but he couldn’t hold back the panic once it had him by the throat.

“My sons! My boys! Sean, he’s 16, my Daniel he’s 9. The police officer who shot me, did he-“ oh god, the thought of the man turning on his boys terrified him. “Did he shoot my boys? Are my boys dead?” He chokes, tears hitting his cheeks as he grabs at the nurses wrist.

“No, sir, there were a couple people brought in with you, but one was a police officer and the other was a white boy who was alive, the officer...not so much.” He replied, turning his hand to hold the fathers shaking fingers in his own. “There were no other people at the scene of the crime, but they are a missing person, suspect for killing the officer.” He added.

“Oh,” he let off a breath of relief, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands came up, hiding the tears he cried openly now. He was relieved that they were alive, but they were on their own, hiding. When found, Sean would go to juvenile prison until he was old enough to go to prison, and they've been running for nine months. “hijos míos, lamento mucho haberles fallado.” He choked. Pinching his eyes shut tightly, he wiped the tears away and looked at the boy beside him with a kind smile.

“I want to go as soon as possible. Can you, by chance, give me anything you can find on Sean and Daniel Diaz? Where they last were if they have it?” He asked. “I need to find me a damn good lawyer, and find my sons.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esteban figs into what happened with his sons a little further and contacts an old friend to beg him for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are pretty short because they’re originally written for Tumblr.

Chapter 2

  
  


Everything was a mess. He was sitting freely now, nothing attached to him but the I.V. that gave him fluids. He had a mess of papers sprawled across the bed; newspapers, printed articles, and a tablet open to the internet, browsing through Sean’s Facebook to see if he couldn’t make heads or tails of where the boys have gone off to. 

It wasn’t until he saw a post about the police finding them in Beaver Creek that he began to put the pieces together. 

So the boys fled the police, walked until they ended up at a little truck-stop, the police were called because of theft. When the police arrived, the place was ransacked, the owner saying that he was attacked and robbed. 

Things went dark after that for about two months before they were spotted in Beaver Creek, police ending up at Claire’s and Stephen’s. They must not have stayed long before being chased out again. Then the news goes dark until there’s an update in the papers that Sean was hospitalized in Sacred Hope Hospital, Daniel missing. He was being contained until he was healthy enough to go on trial.

He chewed the skin rough on the side of his thumbnail, the phone to his ear as he listened to it ring. Sean was in the hospital, that meant he was hurt, and Daniel was missing. 

“Hi Curtis, this is Esteban Diaz, we went to school together back in Seattle.” He spoke once the phone kicked to life, handing him over to the hands of an answering machine. “I’m really sorry to be calling randomly out of the blue, but

I have no idea what to do. I need an attorney, and I need a good one, please. I’m currently in the hospital, please call me on my cellphone, 541-323-7738. Please.” 

He hung up the phone, stomach killing him. On the tablet, he dove further into the news that his oldest was in the hospital, uncovering he wasn’t the only one. A boy named Finn McNamara was also admitted after attempted robbery of a man named Merrill's estate. The man owned a pot farm that the two were working at. He put the tablet down, hands brushing over his face as he tried to imagine it. 

He wasn’t mad at his boy, he found work that keep him off the radar and he was taking care of Daniel. He wasn’t sure if he had Daniel working the fields or not, -and if so he hoped Sean had enough sense to keep his little brother away from people who would influence him negatively. He would rather Daniel stay away from the stuff all together, but Sean couldn’t do it all on his own. 

He sat back, knees pulled up, keeping the hospital gown over them. It’s been nearly three days since he woke up, and he was feeling fine enough to leave, but the hospital seemed hell bent on keeping him. If they were going to detain him, then they better do it. 

Suddenly his phone started ringing. He jumped, had lashing out at the mobile phone. He didn’t look at the number, praying to god the message he sent to Sean earlier made it through finally and this was his baby boy calling him, begging for him to come get him like he used to do in elementary school when he missed them. “Hijo?” He asked, heart pounding in his throat. 

“Hi daddy.” An adult voice answered back in a chuckle. Esteban let off a labored sigh, crossing his legs. He rested his head in his hand, hands shaking like he was face to face with a gun again. 

“Curtis,” he breathed, wanting to let the man know he was still there, just trying like hell to cope with the disappointment that his fantasy hadn’t come true. 

“Hey, I got your message, obviously. What’s up?” He asked. The man on the other end of the phone was a lot more casual than a lawyer normally would be, and if it wasn’t for the past of the two, that would be different. 

“October 29th, my son Daniel was outside playing, he accidentally got fake blood on the neighbor kid. White boy, real fresa, his father is no better. The kid started some shit, my oldest ended up in a fight, of course the cops got involved.” He explained wanting to go over as much as he could. 

“Uh oh.” The voice grunted on the other side. “So we looking at hate crime? I can win that no problem.” He added, a light boasting tone to his voice. 

“No, hijo pushed the kid, knocked the wind out of him, cop pulls a gun on them. I went out to break it up, got shot. I just woke up four days ago.” He explained. 

“Oh shit,” the man sounded concerned but didn’t push to make any guesses. “What happened to your boys?”

“Sean ran. Comes to find out, the boy lived but the cop died. They went to their Grandparents in Beaver Creek but were apprehended and fled again. Last seen, they were working a pot farm in California where they were assaulted, Sean ended up in Sacred Hope Hospital guarded until he gets better then he’s going to juvie, Daniel is missing.” He finished. He was back to chewing the now raw skin on the inside of his thumb, thumbnail short and rigid.

He waited for any sort of response, any at all until the man whistled almost sounding defeated. “Well shit, Esteban.” He grunted. “A cop died,” the father groaned, falling back against the pillows. “They fled the law making them look guilty. They were working a  _ pot _ farm.” 

“They did nothing wrong!” He boomed. “Of course the hispanic boy is the bad guy! That’s what’s wrong with this fucking country since the fraggle took office!” He defended. 

“Ssh, sh,” the man laughed. “Sh, honey, baby cakes, I got you.” He teased, trying to calm him down. “I’ve already got a couple ideas. Step one, we find your sons, step two, we stop anything from progressing in court. Step three, find out a way you can repay me because we are definitely going to have to pull out a  _ lot _ of stops with this one.” Esteban sighed, eyes closed, smile coming to his lips as the relief flooded him. “Got any idea where they might be headed?” 

“Mexico, I think.” Esteban didn’t open his eyes, feeling a little bit of comfort for the first time in 4 days. 

“What is with people trying to flee to Mexico?” The man on the other side muttered. 

“Because I used to live there.” Esteban shot back, reminding him that he wasn’t a born American citizen.

“I forgot my princess was a terrible, awful, scary, Mexican thug.” The man on the other side of the phone, Esteban rolling his eyes but he couldn’t help the smile at his lips. Curtis always played jokes like that, calling him princess, or honey or baby cakes. It was just...sort of natural for them. 

“I own land, it used to belong to my Grandmother.” He replied. “They probably think that that’s going to be the easiest way out.”

“He wouldn’t be wrong, if he can get across the border without dying.” The other man was serious now. “Have you tried contacting him? Or his grandparents?” 

“No,” he admitted. “Well, no to contacting Claire and Stephen, yes to Sean, but he must have ditched the phone, my message bounced back as unavailable.” He hated this, he hated the whole thing. 

“Ok, where is the best place for you to meet me?” The sound of rustling paper could be heard on the other phone, the faint clicking of a pen preparing to write. 

“At this hospital.” Esteban replied, looking at the only information he had about the whereabouts of his kids. 

“Geez baby, you aren’t even gonna meet me halfway?” Curtis scoffed playfully. He hadn’t been called this many pet names since he was with Karen, and it felt odd, but kind of nice? 

“They won’t let me check out even though I’m fit enough to leave. I think it’s a tactic; keep me here so I won’t interfere with the trial. Bet the racist bastards wished I’d have stayed dead.” He gathered up the papers, putting them in a pile. 

“Gotcha, I’ll come and break you loose. Send me the address and I’ll leave right away; should be there in a few hours.” The sound of shuffling and setting things away could be heard, and finally that feeling of relief began to outweigh the feeling of worry. 

“Will do, Curtis. Thank you.” He smiled, voice dropping to something warm and sweet. 

“Anything for you, babe.” With that, he was gone. The man punched in the address of the hospital, sending it to number who called him, and one to the email incase the number was a landline. 

Taking a breath, he laid back down against, eyes closed. He could take a small nap while he waited, he was almost positive he’d be there in the morning. 

Esteban wasn’t a holy man, but as he let the silence of the room fall over him, he prayed; prayed his boys would be found amd praysd they could overcome this nightmare. His boys deserved better, and was willing to devote his entire life to making sure nothing bad ever happened again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

  
  


It was almost 8am, the tv on in his room as the door opened. He was chewing on his fingernails again; the poor things bitten to the nub. His eyes flickered up at his handsome young nurse. Jordan, he’d found out, the boys name was Jordan. 

He’d been working at the hospital for 2 years, fresh out of his internship, he was going back for his second tier as his goal was an OBGYN. He was 23, freshly engaged even though it felt as though it wasn’t going as well as it had at the start. Poor boy; the only thing he could wish for was they either settle things and get married and have a happy life, or for them to part ways without the wedding. 

“What’s the news?” The young man asked, coming in to sit beside him, a clipboard on his lap. 

“I have no idea.” Esteban admitted, feeling sick as ever with the subject. “There’s still no word of my youngest.” He pulled his fingers from his face to spare the gnawed flesh some. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling better enough to go out?” He asked, genuinely concerned. “I mean, most people take a week or two to recuperate from waking up out of a nine month coma.” He rested his elbows on his knees, clipboard hanging between his thighs. His powder blue scrubs were such a contrast to his warm, chocolate skin. Gorgeous boy, his mother must be proud, he would be. 

“I don’t have the luxury of waiting. My kids have gone nine months running from the law, living god knows where, eating god knows what, terrified that they’re going to be caught and go to prison for the rest of their lives.” He sighed, arms crossing over his stomach, knees pulled up. The tv was muted, but the news played. No sign of any updates; Sean was still at the hospital then, Daniel still missing. 

“They’ll be happy to see you, after them believing you’re dead all of these months.” The boy replied, offering a hopeful smile, but that confused the father. 

“What?” He looked at him, not understanding. 

“When the report came out, it said you were dead. The media believed it.” Jordan replied, not sure why that bit of information was missing. 

“No one corrected them?” Esteban felt his heart race, this whole time, his kids thought he was dead? 

“You know the news, if it isn’t supportive of their message in anyway, they won’t report on it.” He chuckled dryly before letting his eyes drop to the floor. “I hope you find them man, and I hope you can keep them from jail. We don’t need more innocent kids falling victim to hate crimes.” He stood up with a groan. Reaching over, he handed him the clipboard as the door opened. 

A tall, muscular man with short, dirty blonde hair walked in, a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He wore a smart shirt and a pair of fit cut trousers. Definitely sporting the sleek, cool, lawyer look instead of the heartless bastard look. 

“Curtis,” Esteban smiled, standing. The blonde came in quickly, arms reaching out for a tight embrace, grasping him around the waist. 

“Baby cakes, look at you.” The man laughed, stepping back to look him over. “Mm, we should take the hospital gown with us.” He teased. The father gave him a quick cuff to the chest, snorting. 

“This is serious.” He replied. “I’ll get dressed, get my things.” He turned, quickly gathering up the odds and ends on the bed before stepping around the blonde. He’d already requested his belongings a couple days ago, even if he couldn’t wear them. He’d need to stop home for a new shirt. 

“So I looked into how long it’ll take to get to the Sacred Hope Hospital by car,” Curtis said, giving the nurse a quick nod as the boy slipped out to give them privacy. 

“Yeah? How long we looking at?” Esteban asked, slipping his boxers on, then pants. He untied the gown from around his waist and neck, letting the cloth slide down his body. 

Curtis was a muscular man; a real beef train, and he had been all of those years ago too. Esteban...well, he was a tiny, dainty man in comparison. Tall, muscular in the arm region, a little bit of a dad belly, but overall pretty smooth save for the fuzzy patch of belly hair that looked like a slightly thicker happy trail. He was a runner in highschool, and into some bad shit after that before he came to America, so he was lucky he looked as good as he did, and Sean and Daniel were twice as good looking as him. 

Curtis however, looked like a steam train of raw plowing power. He wouldn’t be single now if he was rocking the body his friend had. 

Shirtless, he walked out, tossing ths gown onto the bed. The hole in his chest was mostly healed, but it was still a dark purplish red, and he felt that the scar would be that color for the rest of his life. 

His friend said nothing more, looking at the tired, injured man. How were they going to find those two kids in such a wide world? Well, not Sean, but little Daniel? The US was such a large place, so much to see, so much could happen to a 9 year old on his own. 

Esteban pulled the shirt up to glance at it, looking at the blood stained hole where the bullet entered, his shirt sporting just a little bit of stain from where he’d laid in a puddle of his own blood. Right now, he didn’t care, he just wanted out. “Ok, this is everything I need.” He replied, closing the papers and clippings into the case of his tablet, looking at his long time friend. Curtis said nothing more, offering him a gentle smile. 

“I’ll send in the nurse to take that IV out.” The blonde motioned for the door. Turning, he left, heading to the second floor reception desk in the center of the lobby like room, but Jordan was back, already on top of it. 

Esteban sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the dark fingers that cupped his arm, gently pulling off the tape that taped down the tubing leading from the IV walker to his arm. “You sure you don’t want another week man?” He asked, voice concerned. 

“You’re sweet, but I don’t have the luxury of waiting.” He gave a weary smile, wincing as the needle was pulled from his flesh. 

“I know, just...if something happens to you, and your kids find out the news was wrong about you dying, and you die trying to find them, that’s the second time they’ve lost you, and a second time they’ll blame themselves while trying to patch up them old wounds.” He spoke softly, eyes so serious as he wiped the bleeding spot before pushing a cotton ball to the wound, putting a bandaid over it. “If I found out my dad didn’t die of cancer, and he died in the car to visit me, I would never be able to live through it.” He added, stepping back.

“Am I at risk of dying?” The father looked at him concerned, a chuckle leaving his lips, but it didn’t last long. 

“You were shot and you lived from something most people don’t. You don’t survive long when the world marks you for dead and you survive it, trust me.” He offered a stiff smile. 

“Sounds like experience?” Esteban looked at the boy, curious, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone's business, especially if they didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, sitting down into a chair beside the bed, parked between the bedside desk and the wall. “I knew a girl from school. We weren’t friends or anything, but we occasionally spoke in science class.” He scratched at his hairline, a nervous, or sad tick he could tell by the way the boy stared at the floor. “I went to a school in Oregon, went to a school called Blackwell Academy, owned by the Prescott’s.” 

“I’ve heard of it,” Esteban confirmed, nodding his head just a little as if to emphasize his point. “I almost sent Sean there for its art programs but I was selfish. I needed help with Daniel, so I ruined his opportunity of going without telling him about his offer.” He frowned. 

“It’s gotten better; the bullshit is over at least.” He sighed. “Justice was served but...it didn’t last. Like a kid sitting in time out, but after fifteen minutes is allowed to get up and leave instead of serving a full fucking term.” The boy spat. Esteban looked at him, confused for a long moment before he decided that he wanted to know more of the details. What had happened at a school he nearly sent his kid to?

“What happened?” He inquired, his hands on his lap. 

“A girl was shot and killed in the bathroom by the owners son. Drug shit gone wrong I’m guessing.” He shrugged. 

“The boy go to jail?” He asked, trying to paint a picture and see if the judicial system failed that poor girls family or not. 

“Charges were dropped on an insanity plea in court. He spilled enough of his guts in court; he admitted to the death of her and a missing girl, Rachel Amber. A whole bunch of shit went down. In the end it didn’t matter, white money won.” Jordan’s upper lip curled in disgust. Esteban didn’t say anything right away, keeping his eyes on the boy sitting beside him. After the silence settled, if felt...right to speak; silent respect for the dead. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He said finally, the only thing he could say now. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could offer. 

“Like I said, I wasn’t her friend or anything, just a girl I went to school with who I occasionally spoke to.” He sighed, but there was something deeper. Maybe nothing like love, but definitely feelings of friendship. “Just...be careful, ok? It’s hard out there for us right now. Only thing keeping me feeling less worried is the fact you got a white boy with you.” His eyes were stern, even though the smile at his lips was there. Esteban laughed lightly, but he knew. It’s never been easy for them, but it was getting worse. 

He clasped his hand on the boys shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. The boy had done him one favor after the other, from collecting papers, newspapers and printing articles, to going to his house after work to get his tablet for him. 

There was a moment of silence between the two, interrupted only when the door opened, Curtis stepping in. “Ok sweet thing, all signed out, let’s go get your sons.” 

The father looked up at him, then smiled back at Jordan. They both stood, Esteban giving the boy a hug, thanking him for all he did. Grabbing his shirt, he pulled it on, then his shoes. Tucking his stuff under his arm, he followed Curtis through the door, down the hall and to the elevator. He noticed the air of cold from people he passed in the halls, stopping only a couple of times to hug strangers who told him to find his poor angels and bring them back. It felt so black and white, those who supported him, those who didn’t. 

He followed Curtis out the doors and across the parking lot to a shiny red car. Brand new, 2016 Lexus RX200T F Sport, shiny, hybrid, definitely not a good car for an area that snows ever with its 4 cylinders, and not a very economic car given its 34.9mpg only stands out to about 25 miles per gallon. 

At least it was shiny. 

Opening the backdoor, he put his stuff on the seat before shutting it again. As he opened the front seat, he gave the hospital one more look over. 

To think, it’s been nine months stuck here. But soon he’d be with his boys again, or he’d die trying.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esteban has a similar run in with a certain shop owner as his sons do, and he’s none too pleased with the situation. Will it foreshadow the rest of his trip? Only god will know.

The ride was as anxiety ridden as waiting in the hospital was. Listening to music, staring out the window. He imagined his boys walking along the side of the road, hungry, tired, cold. How had they fed themselves? How had they survived when the weather got colder? 

His eyes flickered up as they pulled into a small gas station, Curtis pulling up tk the pump. “Hey sweetie, wanna get us something to drink and eat? I’m starving.” The blonde grinned, unbuckling. They’d been on the road for an hour or so now, but it was nearing breakfast so he agreed, even when he didn’t really feel like eating. 

Climbing out of the car, he made his way across the parking lot and into the building. It wasn’t a bad place, kind of cute, decorated with carved wooden bears.

He looked around a bit, looking at the ridiculous prices if their wares. 4$ for a thing of mac and cheese? He’d sooner eat his socks. 

“Excuse me, are you buying anything?” A woman called to him, his eyes remaining on the canned goods because surely she wasn’t talking to him. Sure enough though, she called again. “Sir. Sir, excuse me.” He stopped and looked up and around, trying to figure out who could just ignore someone like that. That was when he realized who she was talking to. 

He turned, looking at her confused before nodding. “Me?” He pointed to himself. She was a nice looking lady, even if her mannerisms kind of came off as bitchy. 

“Yes. Are you buying anything?” She asked again. How crazy it was, to be grilled without getting a chance to look around first. 

“I had planned on it.” He replied, offering her a small smile. “Or I hope, I have a long ride ahead of me and I’m hoping there’s something that can tie me over till then.” He joked, but she wasn’t having any of it. Lifting up the phone she called someone, but with how short the conversation was, it wasn’t the police. “Is everything ok, ma’am?” He asked, worried. 

“Everything is fine, I just called my husband is all.” She replied, offering him a fake, warm smile. She called her husband? 

He had a feeling shit was going to go down, so he pulled his phone out for just a moment, clicking on the voice memo before tucking it back in his shirt pocket. “Do you mind if I continue to browse?” He asks, not sure if he should continue or not. 

“Of course.” She replied, holding that fake smile. So he turned and he continued to look, keeping his mouth shut to prove that no words are said. He wasn’t new at this game, unlucky for her. Grabbing a couple things, he made his way to the counter, looking at the carved bear statues. 

“Those are wonderfully done, are they made in house?” He asked, trying to start up a conversation with her that would hopefully ease her nerves; not that she seemed anything but ignorantly steeled as far as nerves went. 

“My husband makes them.” She replied shortly. 

“Can...can I buy one?” He asked, genuinely interested. He wasn’t into bears, but he had a feeling Daniel would love it if he saw it. She said nothing as she turned around, grabbing one off the shelf. He waited for her to ring it up but she made no moves to do it. “Is...everything ok, ma’am?” He asked again, pulling his wallet from his pocket. 

“I’m just waiting on my husband to get here, I can’t process the sale without him.” She informed, her eyes steely. He knew exactly what was going on, and he feigned ignorance. 

“Dios mio,” he saw her flinch, irritation rising a little. “I hope he doesn’t leave too often, can’t imagine how troublesome a system would be without him to ok the sale.” He laughed. 

“It’s just a precaution for unsavory customers.” She let slip, but he kept himself calm and ignorant. 

“Unsavory, huh?” He chuckled, itching his head. “What’s unsavory about me, if you don’t mind me asking.” He questioned, trying to get her to admit it out loud so he had evidence that this was based on bias. “I mean, my wife said the same thing, but I mostly shrugged it off; that more than one person is saying something though,” he laughed lightly. “Makes you wonder just what it is that has people thinking the same thing.” He tried to lighten it up, keep his voice playful and friendly. 

She said nothing, keeping her mouth shut. He was waiting almost 15 minutes, mind racing on why Curtis wasn’t more curious as to why it was taking him so long when a truck pulled up. It could have been another shopper, but big money said it was her husband. 

Esteban waited, hands out in the open so as not to alarm anyone; he had a long history with frantic white people and he knew very well how to handle them. Lessons he never thought he’d have to teach his sons. 

The door opened and his head turned, giving the older man a smile as he came in, one that wasn’t returned. “Howdy, sir. Nice day huh?” Esteban greeted as the man slid in behind the counter. He crossed his arms, watching the father of two as he ran his eyes over the collection. 

“Yep.” The man replied. “Ain’t bad.” 

“Total will be 43.02$” the wife replied, Esteban complied, handing over his card. The husband took it, looking it over before looking back at him. 

“Got ID?” He asked, no manners at all. Esteban wanted to know why. 

“Sure, any reason you need to see it?” He asked, keeping his tone civil and light. 

“Policy.” The man snorted, seeming to get as agitated as the bears he carved. 

“Tight ship, first your wife can’t process payments without you, and now my drivers license?” He pulled out his ID and handed it over. “I feel bad about not wiping my shoes before coming in now.” The man looked at it, scrutinizing the card in his hand as if trying to burn through it with laser vision. 

“Can I can your Green Card?” He asked, the question so absurd Esteban laughed. 

“Excuse me?” He tried to keep it light and friendly. 

“Green. Card.” The man insisted, finding nothing funny about the situation at all. “Your proof of legal citizenship.” He te-iterated. 

“Like my  _ official  _ Seattle Drivers License isn’t enough?” Esteban couldn’t believe it, arms crossed. 

“This is a forgery.” The man replied, the words making his eyes widen and his blood boil. “I know what a Seattle license looks like and this isn’t it.” He crossed his arms, refusing to hand the card over. 

“Ok, I have played your game very patiently, sir, but one, this is blatant racism,” that got the older man moving, arms dropping to his sides, fists clenched as he stalked his way around the counter. Oh,  _ oh _ that pissed the otherwise sweet and patient father off. “Two, I’m being carded for my race, not the purchase of product as I have no alcohol or cigarettes on the counter. I am a legal citizen with a completely valid license attempting to purchase goods from your store with money I earned from a legal paying job,” he didn’t step back as the man stepped up to him, fingers grabbing his shirt. 

“Sir, I will tell you once; my  _ lawyer  _ is right outside but I am not afraid to  _ defend _ myself if you harm me.” He worded it politely, or as politely as his boiling blood would allow. They stared into each other’s eyes for a second before the man stopped. 

“You’re the father of those little bastards.” The older man growled, clutching the shirt tighter. Esteban was confused for just a second before settling back into anger as this man insulted his kids. “The deadass  _ spic  _ of those little peckerhead thieves!” 

“Let me go.” Esteban warned him, feeling his own fingers twitch. 

“You know what those little bean eaters did? They came in, stole from me and my wife and destroyed my store. I shoulda busted their knees, made sure they wouldn’t ever be able to jump anymore fences. Course, if I had any sort of pride in my president at all, I should’ve shot the little fuckers.” The man spat. “Ain’t no better spic then a dead one-“

Esteban couldn’t take it. He swung, fist railing the man in the lips, the woman screaming. The husband stumbled back, fingers on his now bleeding lips before he came after the father again, hands around his throat. 

Esteban wasn’t going down easy, not again. He grabbed the mans’ arms and leaned back, pulling his knee up and kicking the older man’s knee in, knocking his foot back and sending him to the floor before yanking himself away, nails scratching his neck open on the sides. 

The father took a deep inhale of air, grabbing at his neck before kicking the man in the chest shoving him back. He gasped for air as his wife scrambled for the phone. Moving forward, Esteban grabbed his cards out of the downed man’s pocket and looked down at him. “I don’t condone my boys using violence, but you sir are a nasty, filthy piece of shit. You give your country a bad name.” He stepped back. Grabbing the carved bear from the counter, he dropped it in the man’s face. “Keep your overpriced shit.” 

Turning, he left, making his way across the parking lot towards Curtis’s car, the blonde looking at him confused and worried. “Go,” be demanded, climbing in. 

“Um, babe what-“

“Go! For fucks sake go!” Esteban shouted. Curtis didn’t hesitate. Turning the car in he slammed it into drive and peeled out, pulling into the street where they would pass several cop cars only 5 minutes down the road. 

  
  


** _Father Lost_ **

  
  


The sun went down, driving for hours made his nerves jump and twitch until he could no longer stand it. After a while, he begged Curtis to pull over, a request the blonde seemed happy to grant. 

They were at a small tourist landing, a rail overlooking a small town in the distance, a plaque stating it was called Arcadia Bay. 

Esteban sighed, breathing in the cool air and exhaling plumes of steam that curled from his lips like smoke, his knuckles still throbbing from punching the man in the face. Curtis joined him, cigarette between his lips, hand stuffed in his pockets as he leaned against the railing. 

“You wanna tell me what happened back there?” He asked, taking a drag and exhaling. Esteban didn’t respond right away, staring at the cigarette he was finally free from thanks to his 9 month coma, but he decided to ensnare himself again. Reaching forward he took it, the man giving him a playful little chuckle as he took a drag. 

“Racist old pig decided to get physical, so I kicked his ass.” Esteban felt a little pride with his reply. 

“And that’s supposed to help your case...how?” Curtis shot, taking it back and taking a drag. 

“I got audio evidence that it was self defense.” Esteban replied, trying to justify getting rough with the man. 

“Which doesn’t mean shit if he has more wounds.” The lawyer snorted, offering the cigarette. But he noticed the bruising on the fathers neck, even in the dark, and scratches along his throat. “He really got you.” He frowned looking at him. Esteban gave him a crooked smile that silently said he was ok.

There was an awkward little pause before Curtis smiled and stepped forward, grabbing his friends waist. “Let me kiss it, make you feel better.” He stepped in. Before the angry, hurting father of two could protest, there was a face in his neck, making him laugh as lips kissed his skin almost too passionately to be a joke, making his toes tingle. 

“Ughn, stop.” He laughed, the laugh almost a moan. It’s been years since he found himself in the arms of anyone, their lips on his neck, hands on his body, and even if it was a joke, he was afraid his body would read too much into it. 

“Stop? You sure? I didn’t get the other side.” Curtis chuckled, turning his head, pinning his friend against the metal rail as he kissed the injured flesh of the other side of his neck. It was too much, Esteban’s fingers shaking as he was leaned back over the rail in the cold, hot breath on his skin. 

“Ok, ok, get off.” He forced a laugh, pushing the man back and moving to shift the budding erection into his pantleg. He shared a shy smile as the blonde beamed brightly, backing off. “You take things too far.”

“You say that.” Curtis laughed. “So where to now?” He asked, turning to take a drag of the cigarette, now flameless from having the cherry knocked free. He tucked it back in the pack for later as the father turned once more to look at the town, gazing out over the ocean. 

“It’s late, we should find a place to rest.” He replied, feeling his twisted, knotted insides relax. “Hotel, or something.” He shifted his weight, leaning his thighs against the rail. 

“To Arcadia Bay it is then.” Curtis repocketed the cigarettes, turning to get back in the car. Esteban took a moment more, reflecting over everything; the fight, worrying over his sons, and now a new worry...Curtis.


End file.
